


You still keep me up at night, You have love, But just not quite, Enough for me

by Sdktrs12



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: 3x04, Alternate Ending, Angst, Canon Divergence, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23100769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sdktrs12/pseuds/Sdktrs12
Summary: Angsty alternate ending to 3x04, where these two still don't talk but they do end up boning.As per usual with these two dummies.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 28
Kudos: 172





	You still keep me up at night, You have love, But just not quite, Enough for me

**Author's Note:**

> This is unedited and written in a sleep deprived fog, so excuse my nonsense, I just had to get this out!

“I think I need you alive.” 

The words hit her like a freight train, but the weight of them sinks in as slow as molasses. 

Her lips part as she feels her face flush, her breath quickening—in and out, in and out, in and out. Her chest heaves with it, her vision going foggy for the briefest of moments, before she realizes—he's turned away. Before she realizes—he's _leaving_. 

Her feet move before her mind has even fully formed the idea, her strides long and purposeful so she can catch him before he walks out the door. Before he vanishes as quickly as he’d appeared. 

And it’s like she’s having an out of body experience, the way she’s watching her arm lift up, stretch out, her hand wrap around his forearm, her fingers pressing into his shirt. 

It’s softer than it looks. 

She hears his sharp intake of breath at the same time a soft gasp leaves her at the contact. 

Beth jerks her hand back like she’s been burned, as she comes crashing back to reality. 

And the way he’s looking at her now... 

“Sorry.” She mumbles. Her head feels too full, too many emotions clashing against each other. 

The juxtaposition between how he’d been looking at her _before_ —when she’d been showing him how to make her money—with the way he’s looking at her _now_... 

It stings more than she thought it would. 

There was a moment there, after she had started, that things had— _shifted_ between them. His cold indifference had slowly melted away to what seemed like reluctant pride. Like maybe he was impressed by what he saw. 

By her. 

And she shouldn’t care about that, it shouldn’t affect her like it used to—but god, she can’t deny the way her heart had skipped a beat at it, the small smile that had played at her lips despite the high key emotions running rampant between them. 

_She'd_ done this. _She'd_ succeeded. On her own. And he was impressed. 

“What are you—where are you going?” She stumbles over her words as she pointedly looks at the sheet of money he’s still holding, and curses herself for not sounding stronger, more sure of herself. Articulating her thoughts before—well before _that night_ , had been difficult enough. After _that night_ , it seems damn near impossible. 

“That don’t concern you.” The disdain is evident in his voice and face, before he turns to leave _again_ , and Beth has to restrain herself from reaching out to him once more, instead fisting her hands into her apron. 

“It concerns me when it involves my money.” This time her voice _is_ stronger, and she gives herself a little mental pat on the back, even as she licks her lips nervously. 

“ _Your_ money?” Rio snaps as he turns back to her, taking a step closer to her as he does, and Beth forces herself to stand her ground. 

She rolls her shoulders back a little bit as she lifts her chin defiantly, staring him down. “Yes.” God, she wishes she could make her brain process more words, instead of essentially shutting down around him. 

“This is my money, darlin’. _Mine_. You owe me. Your life, remember?” 

Beth falters for a second at his words, but presses on. “And I’ll get you what I owe you, but you can’t just walk in here and--” 

“Oh nah? You tellin’ me what I can and can’t do now? Big boss bitch nowadays, that right?” He’s stepping closer with every sentence, invading her personal space until she’s forced to back up to avoid him, to avoid touching him again. 

But he just follows, until her back hits a wall, and Beth swallows thickly as she straightens out her body, lengthening herself, standing tall. She refuses to let him succeed in making her cower before him. In making herself smaller to placate him, because of what she’d done. 

Because of what he’d _made_ her do. 

Beth tilts her head up to look at him, letting all the anger she’s felt finally show through, and she sees it, the change in his demeanor when he clocks it. 

“This is mine. I did this. I built this. You don’t get to take this from me.” Her hands are still fisted into her apron, her fingers starting to ache with how hard they are twisting in. 

“Oh, watchu think this is, some sorta business deal? Nah darlin’, I aint negotiating.” 

He’s still holding the sheet of money in his hands, and god, it’s probably the stupidest thing she could do in the moment, but Beth can’t stop herself from reaching over and _snatching it out of his hand_. 

The look of total shock and disbelief that flashes across Rio’s face is almost funny. She would laugh, if she didn’t think he would murder her with his bare hands. 

The thought makes her blink rapidly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips again. Rio’s eyes automatically drop to her mouth and Beth tries to steady her breathing, her rapidly beating heart. 

She has the sheet of money clutched in her hands between them, pressed up against her chest. “Who said I wanted to negotiate?” She shoots back, voice shaky again, but at least she actually got the words out. 

Rio’s eyes snap back up to hers, his mouth twisting up in a sneer, his brow furrowed as he glares down at her. “You think you got nine lives or somethin’, Elizabeth? Cause you really pushin’ this shit right now--” 

“You _need_ me now, remember?” She spits out, jaw clenching as soon as the bitter words leave her mouth. A reminder of all the times he hadn’t needed her. The one time he does now. The only thing saving her life. 

“Give it to me, Elizabeth.” His tone is dark, his eyes almost pitch black, and she’d be scared of him, if she wasn’t so fucking sick of it. 

Her anger flairs up anew, and the idea forms in her head, taking hold, and she’s acting it out before she has time to think of the consequences. 

Beth brings the sheet up, looking him straight in the eye, as she tears it in half. 

And then again as she tears those pieces in half. 

And again, until the pieces are almost confetti in her hands and her chest is heaving with how furious she is, and she’s babbling almost unintelligible nonsense about how he doesn’t get to rise from the dead and take over, doesn’t get to force her under him again, doesn’t get to make her _feel_ like this again. 

Because she would rather destroy this whole thing, would rather burn it down to the ground around them, then give this part of herself over to him again. 

Not again. 

And he must see it in her face, it must be written plain as day, the anguish there, the pure _exhaustion_ , because his hands are coming out to cover hers, to stop them, to pry her fingers open and let the pieces fall away, scatter on the floor around them. 

She’s shaking, every emotion she’s felt since his resurrection crashing together and pouring out. 

She hates that he’s here, in her space, in this place that’s supposed to be just hers. 

Beth suddenly feels suffocated, like he’s taking up too much room to her too little. She yanks her hands out of his and shoves at him, desperate to get him away. She must take him by surprise, because he stumbles back half a step and she takes advantage, pushing herself up off the wall. 

A look of shock crosses over his face before he surges forward, pushing her back down with his body, his hands coming up to press against the wall on either side of her, caging her in. 

And Beth is suddenly hyper aware of how quiet it is except for their labored breathing, how neither one of them has spoken a word during this heated moment, how loaded their gazes are. 

And she’s not sure who moves in first—if she stretches up on her tip toes, or he leans down close(or maybe both), but their mouths are crashing together, their lips meeting in a rough, sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth and harsh breaths. 

Beth knows she should pull away, should stop this. _He_ should pull away, should stop this. 

But the feel and touch and taste of him is like muscle memory, instantly familiar, and it’s almost too easy, the way her hands grasp at his sides, pull his shirt up so she can get to his pants, his belt buckle, the buttons. 

And it takes her a minute to realize he’s doing the same to her, only he’s much faster, already shoving her pants down as she barely gets to his zipper. 

This is nothing like the bar bathroom and it’s definitely nowhere near what happened in her bedroom. They don’t speak, don’t look at each other, they’re doing the bare minimum of touching—just enough to move the necessary amount of clothing out of the way and then Rio’s spinning her around, and Beth goes easily, bracing her hands against the wall, biting back a moan as he pushes into her from behind, one swift hard thrust that presses her flush against the wall. 

The sudden stretch is almost too painful, but she finds herself liking it. Pleasure had always come with a side of pain with him after all. 

Rio grabs her hips, yanking them back, and Beth scrambles at the wall, desperate to find purchase—something, _anything_ , to grab onto and _hold_. He doesn’t give her time to adjust, just starts fucking into her hard and fast and _god_ , if it doesn’t just turn her on even more. Beth clenches around him and she can feel Rio’s movements stutter for the briefest of moments, his hand coming up to fist into her hair, twisting it up at the nape of her neck and pulling and Beth can’t help but let out the tiniest gasp as her head snaps back and she clenches around him again, and _fuck_ , she’s so close to coming already, and if the heavy panting and quiet grunts she can hear from behind her are any indication, she can tell he is too. 

She brings a hand down off the wall, up between her legs, her fingers sliding over her clit and she can’t help the moan that slips out, her body shuddering at her own touch as Rio pounds into her. 

It’s rough and messy and impersonal, and when she comes, it’s the greatest euphoria for her body and the worst desolation of her heart. 

Afterward, they clean up in continued silence, hurriedly putting themselves back together, trying to distance themselves from this insidious little game they keep playing. 

Beth watches as Rio turns away, striding toward the door, and this time she lets him. He pauses at the threshold, completely still for what feels like an eternity, before-- “We’ll talk.” 

And then, he’s gone.


End file.
